


Arthur's new horse

by Maverick14th



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur has a horse type apparently, Gen, Horses, I have no idea how to write their accents, no beta we die like men, rest of the gang mentioned - Freeform, vicious hardasses that hate everyone but him, which is good cuz Arthur gets into some crazy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 19:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick14th/pseuds/Maverick14th
Summary: Arthur gets a new horse. Stupid rich Saint Denis bastards.





	Arthur's new horse

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing I've been wanting to write if only to gush about the absolutely gorgeous dapple grey pinto Missouri Fox Trotter I got in the game with the horse spawn cheat. I fucking love this horse. So mostly just a drabble. Sorry.

Arthur knew he’d seen just about every dark place humans could possibly go in his years, before and after he’d been picked up by Dutch and Hosea, but he still managed to feel disgust at what he was seeing.

Saint Denis, the most “civilized” town around despite being smack dab in the center of the swamps and bogs of the south. How you could be civilized surrounded by disgustingly humid air and water crawling with gators and other undesirables going bump in the night he had no clue, nor did he want to. Who knows what went on in these bizarre folk’s minds, must be the war twisting their minds still.

It was the rich living in their unnecessarily large manors on the outskirts of the town who were the current cause of his ire, not that his anger was difficult to spark, he’d tell anyone outright he had no patience for idiots, had in the past in fact. Typically to Marston, the addle-brained moron.

He had been making his way into the town on his way to the trappers when a glimpse of white caught his eye. It was a horse tethered to a post, barely sheltered by a sad excuse for a stable, tucked away between two houses that probably belonged to the entire serving staff for a single manor house all crammed in together. 

Taking a second look at the horse made him wonder how he’d even seen any white on the horse at all, it was covered in grime and dust, its coat some strange mix of brown, red and grey. Obviously not been groomed or even washed off in far too long judging by how it clearly still had some of it’s winter coat matted up in the gunk which had to be stifling in the southern heat and humidity.

Now Arthur was someone well known for his horses. His first not even having been a horse but a foul tempered old mule named Jack that hated everyone but somehow still tolerated a completely green Arthur bouncing atop his back until he learned his seat. Then his beloved Boadicea, an alarmingly aggressive Hungarian Half-Bred whose bloodlust matched her blood bay coloring. Hosea had been the only one apart from Arthur who had been allowed to even approach the mare, anyone else who even attempted to do so was charged and bit without prejudice, as John knew all too well from when he had been new to the gang and still testing boundaries, he didn’t try and bribe Arthur’s horse again, once the missing chunk of flesh she had taken out of his backside grew back that is.

But this just made him sick.

“Goddamn rich bastards, got so much cash think they c’n afford t’ waste horses like this. Goddamn waste.” He grumbled as he dismounted his most recent mount, a pure white Arabian he had found wild in the goddamn snowy mountains for whatever reason. Even he knew Arabians were from the fucking desert, how the hell she got there only God knew.

He left her where she stood and approached the mystery horse from the side, giving it enough space so it could see him coming and hopefully not spook. God knew anyone just walking up to his mare was enough to scare the piss out of her, damn high strung race horse.

Now that he was close he could tell right away this was another race horse, clearly more of an American take on one, those long legs were a sure sign of it, probably Thoroughbred in there somewhere. The long back and deep chest were an indicator of maybe a work horse though, a mix breed? Or just one used for multiple tasks?

It looked fairly worn out but it was clearly saddle broke from the slight sway in its back and the way it was side eyeing him but had made no move to shift away from him. A glance below confirmed it was a stallion, unfixed as most horses were this far out. It had good muscle tone however, and it was clearly less skittish than his frankly ridiculous Arabian, and his owners obviously weren’t making use of him….

“Aw hell, what the heck,” Arthur moved the last few feet separating him and the horse and untied the rope securing the stallion to the post. The stallion didn’t even put up a token protest at being led away by a stranger, yet another mark against his neglectful owners, and followed after Arthur placidly, waiting patiently as he mounted and tied the lead rope to his saddle horn.

Due to the fact it was just barely dawn and the combination of Arthur’s own rough looks and the stallion’s, no one looked twice at the apparent ruffian leading a nag away from town and into the swamp.

* * *

“Who’s there?!”

“Keep your pants on boy, it’s jus’ me.”

“Morning Arthur, welcome back. Whatchu got with you?”

“New horse, maybe, if I kin get him cleaned up.”

“Good luck, looks pretty rough.”

“Yeah I know it, walked him right out from some rich folk’s backyard in St Denis, reckon they won’t miss ‘im.”

“Sure it couldn’t of happened to nobody better.”

“Don’t I know it. Stay safe Lenny.”

“You too Arthur.”

Arthur tethered the two horses to the hitch nearest his tent and made his way in to drop off all the extra he’d picked up since he’d been back last, then grabbed his full grooming kit, the one that never left the camp unless they were moving.

Leaving the Arabian at his tent he led his new horse towards the little beach by the lake, hitching the stallion to one of the posts of the boat dock so he keep his hands free. Heading back into camp to grab a spare bucket he got to work, rinsing off as much of the grime as he could, then getting his soaps out. He liked to give his horses a good cleaning every once in a while, just brushing doesn’t get rid of most of the things he ended up running his horses through after all. He never noticed any of the other members of the gang washing their horses, so maybe it was just him.

With the help of copious amounts of soap, water, and enough brushing that he’d be feeling it tomorrow, he was finally able to see the horse he had literally walked out with. He blinked. Why the hell was the stallion in that horrible condition?

Now that he was clean the stallion was obviously a Missouri Fox Trotter, a very rare breed this far out, and was a fascinating grey pinto with silver dapples, a color of coat he had never even heard was possible, much less seen. This horse should’ve been locked up under guard in the best stables, not left to rot outside the servants quarters!

“This. This is why I hate the rich. Buncha no good inbred, hoity-toity morons, think their shit don’t stink like the rest of us. Buncha pure-bred idiots.”

He ran his hand down the stallion's neck, feeling the strength in the muscle there, then checked over the rest of the stallion, making sure of his condition. All looking good, he led his surprising new horse back to his tent to switch his saddle and gear onto his new steed. Best way to get them used to each other is to jump right into it. He’d stable his Arabian later so she’d still get cared for. For now he had a new horse to break in!

* * *

Arthur was scarcely seen around camp for a good week after he brought in the new horse and everyone had their own theories about how Arthur had gotten his new mount.

Lenny enjoyed having a secret to himself for once, since they all lived so close together most everyone knew everything about everyone else. He finally spoke up when the rumors got too outlandish than he was willing to hear.

“No he ain’t gone an sold himself, listen to yerself for chrissake. He picked the horse up out of some rich folks place, weren’t even secured or nothin. Was in rough shape when Arthur brought ‘im in too. All dirty and likely tied up for weeks.”

The current gossipers turned to him, John, Bill, Uncle and the girls gave him skeptical looks.

“No way that horse was left alone, jus’ look at it!” Mary-Beth exclaimed, the others nodded. Everyone had been shocked when Arthur had rode in on a long-legged gorgeous racehorse and he wasn’t telling where he’d picked the stallion up, sparking the rumors.

“It’s true, when Arthur brought ‘im in, you couldn’t tell if he was black or white or any which color, he was so covered in dirt and muck, probably swamp mud too, since Arthur stole him from St Denis. Must have been using him for a pack horse, since he was tied up by the blacks.”

“Even if he was saddle broke before Arthur got ‘im, no way is he gonna be much use if he won’t listen.” John trailed off as the sound of hoofbeats approached the camp, slowing for a moment as Arthur’s distinct low drawl could be heard from the entrance, and picking up as Arthur cantered into camp on said horse. 

They didn’t even see Arthur move before the stallion was skidding to a halt perfectly in front of the hitch by Arthur’s tent, standing calm as can be as the cowboy swung down and looped the reins over the post, not even bothering to tie them down and gave the horse’s neck a few heavy pats.

“There’s a good boy.”

Half of the watchers felt a shudder go down their spines as Arthur’s whisky-rough voice reached their ears, despite knowing that he wasn’t even talking to them.

Lenny recovered quickest and made his way over to where Arthur was removing his tack from the stallion and giving him a quick rubdown with an old cloth. With the large saddle gone it was even easier to see the beautiful markings of the dapple pinto, making the horse look almost like a starry sky.

The stallion turned his head just enough to fix Lenny with one ghostly pale eye, keeping his attention otherwise focused on Arthur.

_Warning received_. Lenny smiled to himself, having had a feeling that this newest horse of Arthur’s was going to be following the ongoing trend all of Arthur’s mounts shared: Arthur they liked, everyone else was not invited.

“Never expected him to look like that under all that grime,” Lenny shared, still keeping an eye on the stallion, and his distance in case he had to run for it. The stallion was easily sixteen hands, nearly head and back over Lenny’s not inconsiderable height, he just wasn’t a human bear like Arthur.

Arthur chuckled, seemingly not having noticed the threatening looks his horse was giving his comrade, “You an me both. He’s a lot prettier than I thought he’d be tha’s fer sure.” He gave the stallion another hearty pat and stepped away, taking the bridle with him, not even bothering with a halter.

“You sure he’ll be alright without a tie?” He wasn’t so sure about having a potentially aggressive horse free to roam the camp, especially since it was already eyeing him.

“He’ll be alright, Sirius’ a good horse, got some real sense to ‘im. Damn near took a wolf’s head off ‘fore I could shoot the damn thing.”

“Sirius? Is that what you named him?”

Arthur shrugged, trying not to show how embarrassed he was just for praising his horse, “Killed a wolf on his own, and his coat looks like stars, it’s a constellation, dog star, Hosea showed me when I was younger.”

“Dog star huh?” Lenny looked over at how Sirius was eyeing Cain, and how the mutt took one look at the tall horse and slunk away to hide with Jack, and wondered if this was going to be theme with Arthur’s horses.

Then he met Buell and didn’t even think to question it any longer. Arthur just seemed to find horses that hated everyone but would do anything for him. Even go after cougars, or panthers, or gators…. Maybe it’s a good thing Arthur had such loyal horses, considering what he did in his spare time.


End file.
